


Hand to Hold

by championofnone



Series: tumblr prompts [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Mention of Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:31:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/championofnone/pseuds/championofnone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, a simple gesture can mean the world. Requested by a friend on tumblr :></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand to Hold

The first time Hawke had brushed his hand against Fenris’s, the the elf flinched, and Hawke immediately withdrew, using the same hand to rub the back of his neck and laugh a little awkwardly, trying to pass it off as an accident. Fenris just stared at him for a moment before Hawke hurried forward to where Varric was swearing at a chest. 

Fenris didn’t think accidents involved trying to curl a finger around someone else’s. 

The second time it happened, Hawke was a bit drunk. The Hanged Man was as rowdy as ever, spurred on by Carver and Aveline’s arm-wrestling competition. Isabela made sure the mugs were always full (on Varric’s tab, of course), and Hawke was a lightweight. Hawke had been having trouble staying totally upright for a while, now, and Fenris had sat next to the man to make sure he didn’t completely fall off the bench and crack his skull open.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Fenris stiffened when he felt a soft pressure wrap around two of his fingers. Hawke smiled at him, eyes slightly hazed from the alcohol in his system, but showing he was still coherent, and very much knew this wasn’t an accident. 

Fenris wasn’t good with words, and much worse with verbalizing emotions, so he simply turned his hand upward into Hawke’s, the human’s hand covering his entirely.

Hawke beamed. 

The third time it happened, Hawke had caught his shoulder first, hand covered in blood. Hadriana was dead on the floor behind them, Varric and Isabela quiet for once. 

Fenris was furious, shrugged him off, and stormed away.

Hawke later found him when he returned to his mansion after running errands. Fenris explained himself, and Hawke understood. The warrior kissed him with a sort of urgency that alarmed the mage, and Hawke gently grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back just enough to smile at him. Hands, more calloused than a mage’s should be, intertwined themselves with the other man’s, and Hawke quietly led him up to the bedroom.

Their hands never separated the rest of the night, even though the morning was a different story. 

Their hands would not touch for a long time after that.

Lillies. Those blighted, Maker-damned  _lillies_. Hawke blamed himself, he should have known, should have put the pieces together earlier, should have-

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, not needing to look up to know who had come in. Fenris quietly approached Hawke, who had hunched in on himself at the edge of the bed. They spoke, trying to lessen the hurt, but some pains are too raw to be tapered so easily. 

Fenris slowly uncurled one of Hawke’s hands, rubbing his fingers over the indentations of Hawke’s nails. Hawke quieted at that, watching him without making a sound. Hawke turned once their hands settled together, burying his face into his shoulder as tears spilled out, emotions beyond what Hawke could contain.

Fenris pulled him closer with his other arm, not knowing what to do, but determined to do something right to help the man he cared for, whether he wanted to admit to that last part or not. 

Three years later, and Hawke had become the Champion of Kirkwall, Danarius was dead, and Varania had disappeared.

Fenris wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with that last part.

Things had gotten easier. Fenris felt lighter, a looming presence over his head gone and dealt with and dead. He smiled more often, added dry humor to Varric’s jokes and Isabela’s tales.

He allowed Hawke to join their hands quite often, now. The red favor the mage had ripped off of his armor so long ago still held vibrant color, and Fenris would not allow anyone that was not Hawke to tie it if it loosened.

Hawke thought things were looking up despite the sorry state of Kirkwall, and the only thing that made it bearable when the city burned was when Fenris was the one to grab his hand first. He still had trouble saying it, but his actions spoke for him more than enough. 


End file.
